Inspired by...

[randomness]

...an ironic comment from dpolicar, and a (friends-locked) posting from redhound.

"(P)eople really don't read what you write. They read some sort of virtual text constructed from your title, a few fragments of your text, and whatever preconceptions may be stimulated by them. It's sort of amazing watching people rant about your failure to consider things you explicitly addressed."

"Hey, what do you have against reactions that completely miss your point? You want us all to understand you and respond relevantly, or something?"

I'd extend this to say that it's not just that people don't read what you write, they don't listen to what you say, or even watch what you do. As drbitch once observed, humans write stories; it's what they do. But they often pay more attention to the story inside their head than anything that may be playing out before them.

Comments

i know what you mean...

[midsummernd.livejournal.com]

Having been misinterpreted in life and in writing more than once this week, I know what you mean.

I think that as a reader of people and of words, I read on two levels: There's the kind of critical reading that I do with my eyes and my brain, and then there's reading on a gut level. Most of the time, I don't need to read half the words in a book to get the gist of it, or watch half the things my friends do to pick up on their mood, their attitudes toward other people, situations... You could say this is cheating, it's the Cliff's Notes version of human interaction, but it's necessary. If I were to involve myself in understanding everyone else's position all the time, I would be a postmodernist, but I would also be really tired.

Granted, this means that if I want to then comment on what other people are doing with their lives, I ought to sit down and shut up until I've actually read critically. Or I'll end up in class thinking that the narrator was a woman when on page thirteen he clearly refers to himself as Arthur.

The most damning thing about being misinterpreted is getting praise for something I totally disagree with, or just hated. I keep hoping someone will turn around and say, "you know, that's just b.s."

Re: i know what you mean...

[r-ness.livejournal.com]

If I were to involve myself in understanding everyone else's position all the time, I would be a postmodernist, but I would also be really tired.

That's priceless! I really laughed when I read that. :)

And your overall point? Very true. Close analysis of everything someone does, says, or writes is extremely tiring. I mean, it reminds me of a couple of the late stages of relationships that went sour, for me: "what does she mean by this word?" "why is she saying it that way?" "is she thinking of it this way or that way? Or maybe this other way?"

And if you're really lucky, they're doing the same kind of hamster-wheel thinking about you.

Man, that was horrible. I didn't have time for anything else.

Or I'll end up in class thinking that the narrator was a woman when on page thirteen he clearly refers to himself as Arthur.

Oops. :)

I keep hoping someone will turn around and say, "you know, that's just b.s."

There are people in my life whose company I treasure, not only for their willingness to tell me I'm full of it, but also because the same personality that permits them to call me on it makes them great people to be with.